Nine years
by choatee
Summary: Nine years in the ER. Nine years of patients and traumas and gurneys and the fragility of life... but what now? A bit Carby
1. Ruthless Rush

Ruthless Rush  
  
The ER was hectic as usual; doctors, nurses, and patients crowding the hallways, jamming Chairs, thronging by the admin desk. Phones rang continuously, anxious patients called for doctors, a GSW victim was rushed into Trauma 3. The chaotic scene was all too familiar at County General. The inner city ER always seemed like Grand Central Station, what with its hordes of people cramming every inch of the place. Frequented by the homeless, depended upon by the injured, there was never a dull moment at County. And today was no different, not perceptibly different, at least. But it seemed that the general mood of the ER had been so altered by recent events, that everything was different. The death of a greatly loved friend and leader had hindered the entire staff. And the rush of the hospital- that on any other day would have phased no one- was today, not well received.  
  
While the mayhem of the ER carried on, a certain doctor John Carter had managed to take refuge in the lounge, where he could clear his head of all conscious troubles during a much-needed break.  
  
With the lights dimmed, Carter was left to his own thoughts as he leaned back on the worn, black couch.  
  
In the past months- in Mark's absence- Carter had become ER chief resident, donning the late-doctor's signature green scrubs, and acquiring all the further responsibilities of his position. John Carter was now in charge, and any error or quandary at County General ER fell burden to him.  
  
Just now, the doctor's brow was furrowed; he was clearly entranced in some disconcerting thought; eyes closed, his head rested in his hands.  
  
Nine years.  
  
Nine lengthy, grudging years he had worked in County General, once just an obsequious and unassuming med-student, unaware of what his life had in store for him. Throughout those years, he had at times been so lost and confused. But somehow he had managed to find his place here in the ER, and in that time he'd grown emotionally and physically. But it seemed that in all after all that time, he had yet to convince himself of his own maturity and capability, so that he could fully accomplish all that was expected of him.  
  
But somehow, he knew that subconsciously he was striving for something impossible. He was attempting to forget his predecessor and beloved friend by not only taking his place, but by molding to his very image. Essentially, he was trying to become Mark Greene, and in doing so he was trying to erase the memory of the man whom all had grown to love and respect.  
  
Well he could never be Mark Greene. And he would have to accept that, despite what others expected.  
  
Now, the door stood ajar, and a stream of light, accompanied by a whirl of clangorous noise, brought Carter back to his senses. Someone had just entered the lounge, but his eyes had yet to adjust to the brightness of the room and he had could not identify who it was.  
  
"Carter?"  
  
He recognized Abby's voice.  
  
"Yea."  
  
He stood and brushed his eyes of their repose. "What time is it?"  
  
He wasn't aware of exactly how long he'd been sitting there, entranced in the dark room.  
  
"It's almost nine." Abby said, glancing at her watch, "When are you off?"  
  
He thought a moment, squinting his eyes as if searching for the answer in the air in front of him, "An hour."  
  
Abby was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and offered some to Carter. He waved his hand "no thanks" and turned towards the door.  
  
"Want to grab a bite at Doc Magoo's after your shift?" Abby offered skeptically at the sight of Carter's fatigued expression.  
  
"Nah. I'm exhausted." The weariness was evident in his voice, but he managed a smile as he glanced back towards Abby. "I'll see you at home." 


	2. Try As I Might

Try as I Might  
  
Having signed off on his last chart, Carter stopped briefly at his locker to grab his coat, and then at the admin desk to sign out. He walked briskly towards the doors, trying to avoid being sucked back into the rush that still engulfed the ER.  
  
"Carter!"  
  
He hardly turned towards Weaver, who was calling him from the ambulance bay doors with another trauma. With a wave of his hand he shouted above all the noise, "I'm off!" And proceeded towards the exit.  
  
The blast of chilly, November air was more than refreshing, as he pushed open the doors. He was heading for the El; his mind still caught up in the whirl of his workday. His breath hung in the air and several white flakes fell loftily about him as he walked. It felt good to be out of there. That was all that was going through his head, and the thought made him more anxious still.  
  
What had happened to those days when he lived for his job, and he longed to be helping patients every waking hour. That enthusiastic boy with high hopes and dreams for his future had somehow vanished in the past several months. Or had it been years since he last felt that energizing rush of adrenaline that used to accompany every new trauma that crashed through the ambulance bay doors? He felt so very old.  
  
Soon he was at his front gate. He pulled his keys from his coat pocket and walked up the front steps. Keys in the lock, he paused, if only for a second, before continuing inside. What was he doing to himself? Why was he so hesitant lately, wavering in every action and decision? These thoughts plagued him, but he pushed them aside as he hung up his coat and his bag and walked towards the living room.  
  
The clock in the hall told him it was nearly 11:00, and he realized he'd left work late yet again. He sighed as he found Abby asleep, curled up on the couch. He walked to her quietly, so as not to wake her, and knelt beside her, just watching her sleep. He gently brushed the hair from her face and gingerly kissed her forehead. Abby stirred, aware of his presence, but unwilling to acknowledge it. He kissed her again, then sat back to watch her.  
  
She's so beautiful, He thought, a trace of a smile flickering across his face. An angel, a veil of innocence, free of worldly pains and anguish as she sleeps; how could I be so lucky as to find this one person, so perfect, so right.  
  
After a long moment, Carter saw a smile spread across her face. She opened her eyes sleepily, and the two watched each other for some time. Finally, Carter stood and extended a hand towards Abby. She took it and he helped her up.  
  
"Sorry," he apologized, "Shift ended late."  
  
He walked to the kitchen, Abby in toe, and sat down at the table.  
  
Abby sat beside him, still a bit sleepy-eyed. She could tell Carter had something on his mind. He took a long breath and sighed, his eyes closed, his head hanging. He was a picture of complete mental and physical fatigue, and Abby's heart went out to him. She placed a hand comfortingly on his shoulder and searched his eyes as he met her gaze. "What's wrong?" she quietly implored. She knew the stress of his new position, and knew the circumstances of his promotion kept him grieving for the friend they had recently lost.  
  
"They expect me to be Mark," he said bluntly, trusting that Abby would understand, "They don't want someone to fill his position, they want someone to be him."  
  
Carter paused, trying to collect himself, and Abby waited patiently, her concern evident in her expression.  
  
"I can't be Mark." He said after awhile, " I'll never match his capabilities- or his leadership. He had the respect and the intelligence and the ability to take control. I will never have those things. try as I might."  
  
He rambled, speaking all that was on his mind, and releasing the tension that had so long been confined inside. He felt defeated. Lost in a world he had known for so many years; it had all been turned upside down. In his own mind, he felt so very old, but out in the world, he'd been reduced to the timid boy he was nine years ago.  
  
Understanding his state of hopelessness from personal experience, Abby comforted him just as he had done to her so many times in the past. It was her turn to be strong, but it hurt her to see the person she loved so dearly in so much pain. She wanted to do more than just listen. She wanted to act, to do something that would make it all better. Finally, feeling nearly as helpless as Carter, Abby pulled him to her in a comforting embrace.  
  
"Shh." she soothed, "It's all going to be okay."  
  
The two clung to each other, as if in doing so, they were protected from all of the problems life could pitch at them.  
  
"A few months ago, I thought my life was perfect. I loved my job, my friends. I'd found you. the world all made sense. And now-" His voice broke, and his eyes brimmed with tears he was to proud to let fall, "Now my life is falling to pieces, and I'm desperately trying. I've got to hold onto something, anything. I don't want it to happen again. I don't want to be alone, again." He was referring to his past episode with drugs, when his coworkers had forced him into rehab, fearing for his life.  
  
It bothered her, whenever he brought this up. She had been the one that had reported him to Greene after that time in the trauma room, and despite the fact that she knew what she'd done had likely saved his life, she still felt greatly responsible for the suffering and pain he endured during rehab. She wasn't going to let anything like that happen again.  
  
"Hey." she finally said, the tone of voice harsher than she'd intended, but making him listen to her, trust her. "You are not alone."  
  
Her hands were on his shoulders, and her eyes bore into him, so intense with concern. "You have people who care about you, John. You have friends who won't let that happen to you." she sighed, calming her voice, as he lifted his eyes to hers, "God, Carter. you have me. And I will always be here." 


	3. To a Bitter End

To A Bitter End  
  
The warm sun peeked through the window shades, cascading across her porcelain face. It illuminated each delicate feature, dancing over the blond strands of hair that fell across her innocent countenance. Carter could not take his eyes off her. So perfect as she slept. So beautiful. He brushed the hair from her forehead and a moment later, a smile crept across her face and her eyes fluttered open. "Hi," she breathed. "Hey, you." She closed her eyes again, and sighed softly, content beside the man she loved. He whispered through the silence. "Thank you, Abby. I don't know what I'd ever do without you." She knew he was referring to the previous night. She had been there to comfort him just as he'd always been there for her. "You don't need to thank me, John." In the silence that followed, the two simply watched each other, each at ease while doing so. Carter broke the silence once again. "Abby." her expression showed a trace of question, her eyes narrowed slightly, and her smile widened, "Abby I don't know what I'd do without you," he repeated, "I don't ever want to lose you. god, I love you." Abby's smile mirrored his own. He loved it when she smiled, and lately, it seemed a rare delight. Now he waited for her reply. "You know Carter." she taunted him, "Every night as I fall asleep in your arms I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world." Carter patiently awaited the words he knew would come. "I don't deserve you, John Carter- your love, your heart." She took his hand, their fingers fitting together perfectly, and deepened her gaze, "But all I know is that I love you. I love you."  
  
Carter was just finished brushing his teeth when his pager went off in the kitchen. He jumped just a bit as the sound pierced the otherwise silent apartment, and he made his way from the bathroom, to turn it off. At the kitchen table, Abby greeted him with a smile, the strong scent of coffee lingering in the air as she poured two steaming mugs. Carter picked up his pager and turned it off, frowning as he put it in his pocket. "I thought you weren't on until twelve," Abby said, reading the disappointment in his face as he picked up the phone and began dialing. "Yeah, this John Carter, I was paged?" Abby could hear only muffled words for the other end of the line. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, and hung up the phone. "There was a six car pileup on South Canal Street. County's getting 4 major traumas, 2 minors." He sighed, "They're bringing in everybody." And as if on cue, Abby's pager went off on the counter. "Wonderful way to start the day."  
  
Their jeep pulled up just as three more ambulances arrived, and the two jumped out to help with the nearest trauma. Nearby, Susan and Luka were hunched over a rushing gurney, a paramedic shouting the condition of the patient over the wailing sirens and deafening shouts. Weaver was barking to Corday about bringing someone up to surgery, and a hint of relief crossed her face as she caught sight of Carter and Abby. "Take this one to Trauma Two!" she hollered, gesturing towards a gurney being lifted from an ambulance close by. "22 year old male, no ID, neck and facial lac, blunt head trauma and possible fracture of the left wrist - from the steering wheel, airbag never deployed. LOC about 15 minutes, BP is 150 over 90, blood-loss, approximately 2 liters at the scene." The EMT rattled off the patient's stats while they rushed towards Trauma Two. "Move him, 1, 2, 3!" The trauma team heaved the man from the gurney, and Carter started shouting for tests. "Head CT, CBC, chem7, and 10 of O neg." A dozen hands flew over and around the bloody, battered body. Nurses and doctors gathered around the table, inserting IVs, assessing wounds, and checking reflexes. "He's throwing PVCs!" someone suddenly shouted. "We've lost a pulse." Carter jumped into action, searching for the source of the problem. The man wasn't breathing. "He's not getting any air. Look! Its lodged in his larynx," Abby gestured to a splinter of glass that had punctured the front and side of the man's neck. "Thank God, just missed the jugular vein." "We're going to have to cric him," Carter ordered, "Someone grab the cric tray!"  
  
It took nearly 30 minutes, but finally, they managed to get him stable for transfer. Mark Hamilton - as he was identified by a relative who had arrived during his resuscitation - was brought up to surgery for extraction of the glass shards from his face and neck, and realignment of his wrist fracture.  
  
Peeling off his bloodstained gown and gloves, Carter stepped back from the table, and then tossed them in the waste bin. Abby turned off the monitors and began changing the sheets on the trauma table. The two worked in silence, preparing the room for the next trauma. "It's 12 already?" Abby asked, glancing up at the clock a few minutes later. "Yeah, I guess it is." "Lunch?" she offered, "Magoo's? The cafeteria?" He shrugged, turning to place a box of IVs on a shelf behind him. "No?" Abby moved towards him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "John?" He turned to look at her, that same familiar troubled look in his eyes. "Sure, Doc Magoo's then." Carter left for the lounge without saying more. And Abby was left standing alone in the trauma room, wondering how the day could turn a person so bitter so quickly. asking herself what exactly to do next. 


End file.
